


Obsession

by Taretutare



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Translation of my own fanfic in Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:43:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taretutare/pseuds/Taretutare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. What if humans met their first aliens decades later than in canon, and the First Contact war lasted for 5 years. When it's finaly over, two sworn enemies are not willing to reconcile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1. The Last Battle. Prologue/Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. What if humans met their first aliens decades later than in canon, and the First Contact war lasted for 5 years. When it's finaly over, two sworn enemies are not willing to reconcile.
> 
> A/N. Well, this is an experiment for me. I am currently translating into English my fanfic written in Russian. The HUGE problem is that I'm not a native speaker. SO BETA IS WANTED.:-) Sorry for mistakes and typos. They may be funny though. Please be kind:-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spicy_Gnome, thank you for beta-reading:-)

**Part 1. The Last Battle. Prologue**  
"Do you know how men can be so obsessed by love that they are deaf and blind to everything else in the world? They are as little their own masters as the slaves chained to the benches of a galley." W. Somerset Maugham "The Moon and Sixpence"  
" Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy." Joseph Heller "Catch-22"

—————————————————————————————  
An unwonted eerie silence hung over the battlefield. The smell of smoke was gone. The sounds of gunfire, the orders of commanders, and the groans of the wounded and dying had died away. At first it was a bit confusing, as though a loud unpleasant music had suddenly subsided, bringing intolerable silence. This music had become an integral part of the lives of all who'd been listening to it for such a long time. The silence was worse because no one yet knew what to do with it or how to live further.

The thing was that the armistice had ended the war. To some people - to ordinary soldiers mostly - it seemed to be a desecration of the memory and sacrifices of those who'd lost their lives defending the interests of their people; to others it seemed a sign of weakness. The majority of them still thought it was for the best though, because now they could go back home and reunite with their families. The representatives of the high command of the warring parties had their own view of things, but shouldn't they think broadly and globally, understanding that the bloodshed had long since became meaningless? Why didn't they stop this war earlier? Why not immediately after it started? Why now, when the Citadel Council intervened? Where had those politicians been during five years of heavy fighting for every scrap of land on so many planets? Who gave them right to say that the war started because of a misunderstanding?

Humans had activated an inactive mass relay - known as Relay 314 - due to ignorance and, instead of negotiating, the Turians had opened fire. Did not the Citadel Council know that five years ago? If they did, why did they adhere so closely to the principle of non-interference? Maybe this war had lasted as long as it did because it served someone's purposes, and the intergalactic society saw humanity as a threat to their well-being too late.

However, there were those who did not care about any of these things. Those who used the war for personal gain and who were infuriated by the unexpected truce.

"They ordered us to retreat! The truce was proclaimed!" the dark-haired man yelled, trying to drag a redheaded commando into a shuttle bearing the Alliance Navy insignia. "You can't disobey a direct order from high command!"

Their bodies glowed with biotic energy as tempers rose. A moment later the commando threw a big, wide right hook that caught him on the jaw. 

"Fuck your high command and your Alliance, Lieutenant! This is my mission! I am in charge here!" she cried, her green eyes blazing with anger. The Lieutenant knew that putting her out of temper never ended well for anyone, especially for him.

The man grimaced rubbing his bruised jaw with his free hand - his commander was good at bruising people's faces - and sighed, thinking how to make her see reason. He'd studied the pretty redheaded bitch for the last five years, and being a very reasonable person, he very quickly came to the conclusion that he should not even try to do the impossible.

”All right, stay.” He let go of her left hand. "In the end, you're a civilian now, and your contract with the military ended when the war did. But who are you going to fight, Commander? The enemies withdrew."  
Another woman, who'd been watching them with annoyance since their fight started, stepped out of the shuttle. Her irritation didn't go unnoticed by the marines inside the shuttle. 

She gave the redhead a contemptuous glance and spit out, "Leave her alone, Lieutenant. She's just pissed because she did not have time to kill her dearest Turian or get into his pants. She'd make a good Turian whore!" Muffled giggles were heard from the shuttle.

"He's not mine, Williams," the commando said clearly barely restraining herself from hitting another of her former subordinates. She managed, however, to keep her voice steady, as was typical of high-ranking officers. "How dare you?"

"Ashley," the Lieutenant reproached, "have some respect."

One of the men in the shuttle whistled and cat-called, "Looks like a good old-fashioned catfight's coming! Show Williams who's the boss, Commander! Do not interfere, Lieutenant! Let the girls have some fun."

"I can kick your ass too, Jenkins!" the redhead yelled, and more muffled laughter erupted from the shuttle.

Everyone who served with them knew that Sergeant Williams hated Commander Jane Shepard for some reason. But they could only guess why. Maybe because the Commander had had a more successful military career, despised everything but the fight, or maybe it was a banal jealousy because Lieutenant Alenko had feelings for Shepard not Williams. Again, they could only guess. 

After the laughter had subsided, the redheaded commando turned to face Williams and spoke, this time her voice held ill-concealed hatred, "How dare you say something like that to me?"

"How dare I? And who are you exactly? Technically you are no longer an Alliance soldier. Yes, you were in charge of most of the missions, and I obeyed your orders, but now the war is over. You are not my Commander anymore," Williams proclaimed in disgust. "I don't care that you're one of the best N7 commandos! I really don't! If not for this damn war with the Turians, no one could persuade you to cooperate. You're obsessed with them, aren't you? You're a pathetic mercenary! Thank God, your contract expired. There's no place for someone like you in the Alliance military!"

"Envy is a sin, so shut up, Williams. At least the high command takes my opinion into account from time to time," the commando smirked.

Williams snorted and stepped into the shuttle. The commando turned and walked, with a steady stride, away from the landing zone. The dark-haired man watched her for a long time with evident regret.

"Leave this crazy Rakta alone, Kaidan, for your own good," Williams told him, and soon the Lieutenant reluctantly went inside the shuttle. "Nobody can persuade her to return to the Alliance military. They almost begged her to join when the war began. She has always hated the rules and serving under someone's command. Psycho…"

***  
The smiling sniper watched through his rifle scope as the last enemy shuttle departed. Then watched the redheaded commando standing with hands on her hips and angrily examining the empty battlefield. The Turian could not kill her right now as it would have terrible consequences for newly reconciled warring parties.

The woman sighed and kicked a container.

The Turian smiled again. She'd stayed behind to blow off some steam. Well in her own way. He had no doubt that she would because he'd studied her all too well during the war, and still he was in no hurry to give himself away. It gave him great pleasure to watch his opponent driving herself into a frenzy.

Ratka*. His fellow soldiers had given her that name because of her red fringe and merciless combat style. It was a very old name for Palaven's sun, ruthless and hot. 

Besides, the sniper had heard rumours that humans gave her the nickname "Psycho". It meant "mad”, "violent", "mental", "crazy", and he quite agreed that it suited her too.

Here was a clear proof of that.

Dark energy surrounded her as she lifted a heavy container and threw it into the air. It shattered into pieces; when it fell to the ground. Another one followed, and then another.

If he were a human he'd have whistled in amazement, but being a Turian he only laughed, a deep sound vibrating within his chest.

Using her biotic powers the redheaded commando continued to destroy the barricades for about an hour. Then she sat down on the ground, with her knees drawn up and hid her face in her hands.

The Turian even felt a little sorry for Rakta. The feeling passed quickly; and the temptation to shoot her became almost irresistible. He lovingly ran his finger along the curve of the trigger. 

To hell with the truce... But the Turian didn't want to cause more bloodshed and deaths that would have followed the assassination of his opponent. It was one thing to take Rakta's life in battle, and completely different to shoot her, just like that, when she least expected it. After all, he was a soldier, and not a pathetic merc.

In a battle, huh? The sniper smiled, as an idea crossed his mind. He turned his omnitool on and typed a few lines. Then attached a holographic map of star system to the message.

"I'm still here. That barricades wrecking was impressive, Rakta. I know you want closure. The map shows the coordinates of the place where we can do it right."

He sent the message and continued to watch the woman through the scope of his rifle. When she got his message she stared at her omnitool in disbelief for some time before pulling her gun out and disappearing behind the only unbroken container.

Soon the Turian got a reply message, and they started corresponding.

"How do I know it is you? And how have you managed to contact me? "

"Choose the mark and I will prove that it's me. As to how I managed to contact you. We do proper reconnaissance, and have better equipment than you, pathetic human."

"According to my omnitool, you're far enough. I'll throw my pauldron without warning as far as I can using my biotics. Be on the alert, Turian."

A few minutes later a bullet-pierced piece of armor lay on the ground. 

"Well? Do you accept my offer, Rakta? By the way, have you seen the shuttle? Looks like your Admiral, himself, is here."

"Of course, I accept, Turian. Now run, while you can, or I may forget about this idiotic truce."

"Do not kill your Admiral, Psycho."

"Fuck you. I'll save my bullets for you."  
_______________________________________________  
* Rakta - "red" in Sanskrit.


	2. Chapter 2

It took her more time than she expected to reach her destination. The fact that the war had ended just a few weeks ago complicated things. Humans were still rare guests in the intergalactic community, the outlandish spectacle, so to speak.

Communication with other races for most earthlings, so far, was limited due to a small set of phrases. Provided by the mass consumer electronic translators, they were no better than primitive travel phrasebooks. 

The elite was doing much better. It turned out, some representatives of alien races had tried to contact humans almost from the beginning of the war. Secretly, of course, given the unwillingness of the Turians to stop fighting and the Council's adherence to the non-interference principle. 

Of course, the news that other races held a grudge against the main enemies of humanity had been a huge relief to the Alliance. Humans had been, at the beginning of the war, OK with working with dishonest members of the intergalactic society who had wanted, for their own reasons, to see the Turian Hierarchy fall. The end justified the means, didn't it? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. 

During the war this shadow cooperation had brought new technologies to the Alliance: biotic amps, for one. But soldiers never ask where resources come from and, in this respect, the red-haired commando was no exception. She had agreed without any hesitation to have a surgical implementation of the implants. She'd been luckier than those who had gotten the first experimental models that caused a number of, sometimes grievous, side effects. Well, maybe her Lieutenant had been even luckier, getting one of those early models and getting only migraines. She had gotten a good implant and begun to hone her skills on the battlefield, shocking the Turians with it. 

And now, during the flight from one star system to another, fortune seemed to have turned its back on her, and she had to endure many unpleasant moments. 

From what she could tell, the battered space ship was once a cargo vessel, and now, thanks to an unknown smart-ass, had become, also, a passenger one. No one had thought of passenger seats though, and now, those on board had to pass the time sitting on the containers with God knows what in them. The result was a cargo hold (though, apparently, it would be more accurate to say passenger and cargo compartment) that was jam-packed.

The curious glances of the extremely ugly and heavily armed creatures annoyed the commando, making her shuffle uncomfortably on a hard container and hold her shotgun at the ready, and that didn't go unnoticed by the other passengers.

Thanks to her electronic translator the woman understood enough words to figure it out when aliens discussed her demeanour.

They were not glaw-abiding citizens, as best she could tell, and had a cautious attitude towards humans. But what else could they be? Who else besides filth did not consider it beneath their dignity to travel on the vessel, on board a vessel which allowed firearms and other prohibited things? 

During the flight the old and crazy looking Salarian pilot was yelling most of the time, which would be fine if he was not bragging publicly that his license had long since expired, and that the ship belonged to some volus wanted in many star systems.

"We'll get there! To hell with the license! Orry is the best pilot in the galaxy! And the owner of the ship has been on a run for more than decade already!" he chattered incessantly.

At first, only a few aliens paid attention to him – it seemed that this was normal for Orry, and that many of them had flown with him several times, which was somewhat reassuring. But at some point Salarian's chattering began to irritate a huge krogan who sat close to the uninsulated cockpit and he promised Orry he'd eat his liver for dinner if he didn't shut up.

The silence, broken only by the steady hum of engines, annoyed the commando even more than the glances of armed thugs... She wished Orry would continue to chatter, distracting them. 

After a few minutes of a tense silence a gunfight between the annoyed woman and the other unfriendly passengers was threatening to erupt at any moment. She became so tense during the flight that a couple of times she was close to shooting the Batarian sitting next to her, just because his loud snores startled her. 

The commando thought that she'd never forget this endless flight in company of those who had seen a human before only in pictures. Aliens who resembled monsters from old low-budget horror movies. Someone would pay dearly for it soon enough! Couldn't he choose a better place for their last battle, not East Bumfuck of the Galaxy? There are a lot of planets out there for God's sake!

Buying the ancient shuttle, junk, really, on some horrible station from a very suspicious second-hand vehicle dealer, also a volus, almost killed her. It seemed that representatives of this species, who due to their protective suits, short, rounded bodies resembled old earth's vacuum cleaners, were very resourceful entrepreneurs. The commando had no doubt that they would certainly make a lot of credits out of integration of the Earth and its colonies into the economy of the Galaxy. Perhaps, the contention that money rules the world or the Galaxy was not so far from the truth.

After paying for the shuttle, the woman sighed, knowing that she paid double the price for this piece of junk for sure. 

She was still pretty annoyed even when all her troubles seemed gone, and the last part of her journey began. Life outside the battlefield had always annoyed her, well, maybe it also bored her to death from time to time.

Only when her shuttle finally landed on a God forgotten planet, did the commando start feeling truly alive again. The anticipation and the familiar adrenaline rush finally brought the feeling back and made her heartbeat quicken. She missed this since the war between the Humans and the Turians had ended.

***  
Two full moons illuminated his path. Trying not to give himself away, the Turian trod quietly, making his way through the silent night jungle. Thanks to his predator instincts as a hunter he had numerous advantages over his future victim. He'd heard her shuttle land a few hours ago.

The heady scent of night flowers hung in the warm tropical air. The Turian smelled the air, walking down an old familiar trail that lead to the lake. All the odours were familiar too, and only when he saw two moon-glades shining on the water surface, did he smell a human; a human woman. She smelled like sweat and weapons, and something else - subtle, perhaps even sweet, just like that time when he had had to approach her on the battlefield. Snipers don't get close to the enemy, but that time he had done what he had to do.

Now he followed her scent and a minute later noticed her sleeping form. She sat leaning against a wide tree trunk, about 30-ty steps away. The woman's head was bent to one side, she had relaxed expression on her face, but her hands tightly clenched her shotgun.

Feeling happy, like a child too young to have colonial marks, the Turian grinned and crept up to her, stepping carefully across the sand.

He stood very close, gazing at his enemy with interest. The woman looked so tiny, it was difficult to believe that she was the same fearsome warrior, who fought him on the battlefield so many times. He could hear her soft breathing. She looked vulnerable and somewhat childish in her sleep; the strands of red hair fell over her face, her full lips were slightly parted, her long lashes lay dark against her pale cheeks. Her pale skin seemed to shine in the moonlight, and the Turian found himself wanting to touch her cheek.

He knew how soft the flesh of humans was. However, he'd only had a chance to touch dead enemies when removing corpses to a collection point during one of his missions. And it was a bad time to be curious now. 

He was quite sure that males of her own species found Rakta attractive. His strange desire to touch her... It's just curiousity, he told himself, that's all.

 _Okay. Time to stop staring. It is time to get down to business._

The Turian turned and slowly walked away. He stopped far enough for a long distance shot, took aim and fired.  
***  
Loud shots broke the silence of the night. 

The commando woke up with a startled shriek and instinctively fell to the ground. Stunned, she laid motionless in one position, facedown on her stomach, and then, collecting herself, she crawled, holding her shotgun and trying to get out of the line of fire as quickly as possible. More shots followed, but Rakta deftly rolled over to hide behind a tree. But before she did so she noticed the marks of sniper bullets on the trunk just above the level where her head had been moments ago. 

Breathing heavily, the woman inspected the surrounding area. The sand looked silvery white in the light of the moons. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, not believing her own eyes: there was one set of footprints in the beach sand. The 

Turian had come very close and watched her while she slept! 

_The crazy bastard! Had he decided to act like a noble knight, not killing her in her sleep? Or was this his way to say that their game had started?_

The woman snorted and shouted into the night, ”You should have killed me when you had your chance! I won't give you another chance like this!" 

There was no reply.

The woman spent the rest of the night in nervous anticipation, waiting for her enemy to appear again, but he did not. Only at sunrise, when the exhaustion began to take over, did she fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some shooting happens

The day promised to be very hot, and subtropical climate was very comfortable for turians, even while wearing heavy armor, but not for humans. It was his another advantage over Rakta. The sniper smiled again - in fact, he, without realizing it, began to do it more often, since the redheaded commando had arrived on the planet.

The turian allowed himself to stray a bit in the jungle as the morning warm-up, instead of heading straight to the landing zone. Nimble small birds flew above his head, chirping joyfully, sometimes he heard the anxious cries of pyjaks in a distance, and he heard the roar of a varren once. All these sounds were familiar, and the sniper did not pay them much attention, allowing himself to relax and think about nothing. The warm fresh air filled his lungs, it was so good just to breathe, feeling the heaviness of his rifle in his hands, and being at peace with himself.

The turian hardly noticed when his feet carried him to the landing zone, which was a specially cleared area the size of about 100 square meters in the middle of a dense rainforest.

He stopped and, hiding behind a tree trunk, scanned the perimeter through his rifle scope. The human's shuttle was at the far end of the landing zone, and his own shuttle was closer, only about thirty steps away.

Suddenly, several shots were fired, and the turian watched in disbelief the splinters of wood fly in different directions. Those were the pieces of tree trunk, behind which he was hiding! Shirmalok*!

Then something exploded nearby. The sniper instinctively fell to the ground, covering his head with his hands. Fragments of twigs and sand fell on top of him, and some small pieces of the shuttle. His shuttle!

It seemed, it was this crazy commando's way to inform him that she accepted the rules of their game. The turian smiled in amazement. Rabid Rakta.

"You should have waited until I come to the shuttle! You should have fire no warning shots!" he cried and sat straight, leaning against the tree. "I won't give you a second chance to kill me. Explosives, really?! Watch it, human!"

There was no reply.

***  
The human sat on her haunches, using her own shuttle as a cover and smiling self-conceitedly.

Fucking turian certainly did not expect such a greeting early in the morning. This is for my sleepless night and a "cheerful" flight to East Bumfuck, you moron, she thought and grinned mischievously.

The adrenaline finally kicked in, and she still felt smug about her actions. It was the perfect combination, in her opinion.

The woman wondered what her enemy would do next. Would he retreat or attack? In any case, it would be fun.

Suddenly she heard the loud roar of an animal that sounded as if it was much too close to her end of landing zone. She swallowed hard.

Was it a varren? Damn varren! Oh, no! The commando would not confused its roar with anything. Before her departure to this planet she had to observe a bloody battle of a couple of these creatures, and their owners - two huge krogan - egged their pets on to attack.

The woman glanced around anxiously, carefully scanning a thick undergrowth. Her first impulse was to hide in the shuttle, but while she would be busy with bypassing its locked door, those fucking creatures would attack her. Besides, the entrance was at the opposite side of the shuttle, and she didn't want to put herself in danger, leaving her cover. The turian surely was enraged by her innocent little morning prank with explosives.

Her panic attack subsided, when the commando gripped her riffle tighter, thinking that she was a damn badass biotic. She would manage somehow!

Suddenly, a shot rang out. For a moment the woman decided that the enemy was trying to complicate things for her, but then she heard the whining of mortally wounded animal.

Another shot rang out. Was the turian killing varrens?

The commando was stunned by this thought and did not immediately react when she heard the growl coming from the nearest bushes. She acted only when a varren rushed at her. The next moment the animal was lifted and thrown by the biotic surge, it flew above the landing zone and fell into a big hole in the ground caused by an explosion.

A couple more shots were fired, and then all was quiet again. No growl or whine were heard, no sound of breaking vegetation under the feet of four-legged creatures...

"Impressive! A direct hit! Every varren needs its hole!" the turian suddenly shouted. "A very good accuracy!"

"I'll do the same thing to you, if you try to get any closer!" she replied.

"I don't need to do that to shoot you!"

"Why did you help me?!"

"I want to kill you personally! I couldn't let some nasty varren tear the best soldier of humanity to shreds! It would do it too much honour!"

"I am the best! And thanks for that! Although don't you put yourself above varren! As for me, turians are even worse!"

"Thanks for the compliment!"

"So what's next?!"

The turian did not answer. The woman scrutinized the other end of the landing zone through the scope of her rifle, but he was nowhere to be seen.  
Gone, the commando thought almost regretfully. It was necessary to barricade herself in the shuttle to get some sleep, before more varrens showed up.

***  
Crazy woman! Psycho! That says it all. Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! She blew his shuttle up!

How lovely.

The turian shook his head, chuckling to himself. That's for the best. He just needed to consider his next step.

There were many wild varren in the jungle. They were territorial animals and hunted only by day, and the vast area near the base belonged to the pack, that the sniper killed recently to protect Rakta. And it would take some time before someone new would show up here. The wild varrens instinctively avoided places where the shots were heard sometimes. And the pack, that the turian shot down, consisted of animals that ran wild during the war. They were the pets of the former owner of the base, hidden in the jungle, and at the sound of gunfire or explosions they used to rush for the "dinner party" of the corpses. The sniper shuddered at the memory of a long-standing battle and a feast, these scavengers had when it ended. He hoped to shoot them if he ran into in the jungle. Well, at least now it was safe here.

But Rakta did not know it and, arriving here, she couldn't have missed the mountains south of here. And she was smart enough to figure out that it was necessary to fly there, especially knowing that he saw her shuttle. No more place to go. There were only two places suitable for landing in this hell hole: one flat small plateau and this area the size of 100 square meters in the middle of the jungle. However, it won't hurt to help Rakta to make the right decision.

Well, he would have to come back to the landing zone a few hours later to do that.

The sniper returned to the base and gathered his overnight bag, planning the trip, which would last several days.

And he also took a rocket launcher.

***  
The loud shots woke her up. Damn! Was the turian using a rocket launcher to damage the shuttle or what?! This damn junk!

"Shit! Shit! Fuck!" the commando yelled and rushed to the pilot's seat, sat down in it and began to prepare for takeoff in a hurry. "Come on, damn volus junk! Take off! I will kill this turian! Shouldn't have warn him in the morning!"

Another loud shot rang out, and the shuttle got hit.

Well, the fucking sniper definitely forgot about his rifle for once.

"A rocket launcher?! Really?! Nutty moron! Come on, take off, you antediluvian unarmored piece of shit!"

At last the shuttle took off, vibrating strangely.

"Well done, well done. Now just hold on, we'll get to the mountains soon."

The commando never prayed so hard in her life, and to all known gods at once, and every other word in her prayer was a curse. However, it worked.

Vibrating, being partly on fire, emitting large quantities of smoke and sounds that it certainly shouldn't, the shuttle reached the small mountain plateau half an hour later and even landed successfully, considering all the circumstances. To tell the truth, the shuttle simply collapsed, and then suddenly the flight control system "died a good death and could not be resurrected", as the pilot, the woman once served with, would say. The commando had no doubt it was true, you did not have to be a genius to understand why there was a stream of sparks over the control panel and the smell of burnt plastic.

She sighed and got out to look around. The fire control system prevented the fire from spreading, but the damaged part of the shuttle with a hole the size of varren was still smoking. Fucking turian just smoked her out. Well, she had a three-day supply of food and water, and there were no varrens here. And the mountain scenery was quite beautiful, but the local climate was horrible.

The small plateau was surrounded by the naked blue-black cliffs, day by day protecting this place like imperturbable guards. It seemed their peaks were touching the emerald green cloudless sky. The woman spent some time wondering which of the components of the local atmosphere gave the sky such a unusual color. But more important was that here she could breathe without breathing mask.

However, there was no time to admire the scenery. The local day-night cycle lasted about forty hours, and the hottest part of it was yet to come.

The commando decided to spend the hottest part of the day in the shuttle. It would protect her from the sun at least. And in evening she would go to the cliffs. If she was not mistaken, there was a mountain path there.

____________  
*a turian swear word


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, past is past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys, but grammar is killing me. Be kind:-)

The turian was heading to the mountains. It would take him most of the day to get there.

The dry tropical forest stretched as far as the eye could see. It was still fragrant with a smell of fresh leaves, but the short rainy season was almost over, and the dry season, which lasted most of the year, was coming. But for now the trees were green, as well as different species of undergrowth, and a few lakes and springs were still full of water.

The days were getting hotter, reminding him of Palaven, however, the weather was more tolerable here. The planet, which the sniper had picked for the final battle with Rakta, was a garden world where a fauna was wiped out in an unknown cataclysm long time ago. The good thing was, that there were no local parasites and pests left, the notorious carriers of infections.

Fifteen years ago, when the humanity had just left Solar system in search of new planets to assimilate, the batarian gang led by Solem Dal'Serah built a base here.

Since the beginning of the First Contact war the shadow cooperation between humans and other races had begun, and human criminal organizations didn't miss their chance to earn some credits.

One of those was the Blue Suns. It was founded by Zaeed Massani and Vido Santiago, who had a disagreement over cooperation with batarians. Vido was more open-minded, believing that if the Alliance secretly cooperated with them, his gang should do it too.

It ended with Vido taking sole control.

After that some batarians of Solem's gang joined the ranks of the Blue Suns, and even a few krogan, who brought varrens, pijaks and a few species of birds that had settled down here very well.

The sniper with a small force visited this planet for the first time at the end the first year of the war thanks to a tip-off, given by the Spectre Nihlus Kryik. 

Frankly, the sniper always admired these secret agents of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, who answered only to the Council, although maybe not so much them as them being free of rules and regulations while on duty.

Not that the Government of the Turian Hierarchy had much respect for the Council agents... but it would be just stupid to ignore the information about the whereabouts of the base, where batarians kept whatever items they'd been smuggling to sell them to humans to increase their combat power.

However, a high price was paid for the victory at that battle.

The turian hardly noticed when his feet carried him to the place of a long-standing battle.  
***

_Sounds of gunfire._

_"About two dozen hostiles at 3 o'clock, more at 9 o'clock, Hitter!" Octavian shouted._

_The sniper stared into the worried eyes of his comrade._

_He felt uneasy, realising that the mercs severely outnumbered his squad. If survived this mess, he certainly would kick Nihlus' bony ass._

_Well, at least Sidonis did not go with them. Or... It ought to be an abrupt seizure of a batarian base. How was it that they got ambushed by damn mercs?_

_But retreat wasn't an option, they ought to do everything in their power to get the job done._

_"We can do it!" the sniper assured his comrades. "We must!"_

_A few hours later, the base was seized, all of the Blue Suns fighters were dead (mostly batarians), however, all the squad members but him gave their lives to get the job done._

_Capo Solem Del'Serah was not at the base._

_By the time the reinforcements arrived varrens started gnawing on the corpses._

_The sniper shot a few animals and sank to the ground exhausted, staring blankly at the battlefield._

_"We've found a dozen of captives in the basement, Hitter! They are lucky to be alive." one of the newcomers said._

_The sniper nodded._

***

Almost nothing had changed here over the years, however, the time erased all the things that reminded of the battle. Even bullet marks on the trees disappeared like wounds that healed very quickly without leaving any scars. 

But the turian remembered dead bodies lying in the puddles of blue and red blood and unseeing eyes of his enemies and comrades.

He could easily recall the feeling of meaninglessness that engulfed him then.

Nevertheless, the mission was completed. The base was seized.

Probably every soldier went through something like that once. The nightmares woke him up at night, and even during his waking hours the memories of his dead comrades haunted him.

Four years ago, he wished he would have died too... but then during the next mission he met Rakta on the battlefield... again.

The sniper remembered the excitement of the kill to come he felt when he saw through the scope of his rifle her fiery red hair shining in the rays of sun.

***

_Rakta had no idea that she was leading her squad into a trap._

_On the batarian base turians had found not only the smuggled items, which would make any Spectre envy their owner, but also very valuable data on the next mission being planned by humans. It was hard to tell who'd revealed the secret information to the Blue Suns. Maybe some mediator'd overheard some Marine talking. Well, loose lips sink ships. And turians got the opportunity to waylay their enemies._

_Now the squad of Alliance Marines moved cautiously toward their goal, but turians were waiting for them._

_The sniper noticed Rakta first. Unaware of the danger, she was making her way confidently._

_He fired several times, trying to take her shields down. One of his new squad members decided to help him, and also repeatedly pulled the trigger._

_The commando tried to find some cover. The sniper gave a hand signal to his associate to stop shooting at her, and the soldier immediately started shooting at other human Marine and said: "Oh, sorry, sorry, I forgot that you want to kill her personally, Hitter."_

_The sniper waited for Rakta to almost reach a large boulder, and only then did he fired a shot at her. The woman grabbed her injured shoulder and disappeared behind a big rock._

_Humans had to, or rather, Rakta was forced to retreat after a few hours, knowing that otherwise she would get her squad killed for no good reason._

_The turian knew that he wounded her... marked his sworn enemy. But somehow it never crossed his mind that he, for some unknown reason, would wait a few seconds before pulling the trigger, giving the commando an opportunity to get closer to the cover. And he never thought that he'd be aiming at her shoulder, finally having a clear shot at her._

_But even if the sniper asked himself why, would he find the answer?_

_Maybe he didn't kill her just because he wanted to see her fiery red hair shine in the rays of sun one more time._  
***  
He went to a tall tree with a thick trunk, touched its rough bark with his hand, and closed his eyes. No, no memories of his dead comrades came to haunt him, no imaginary ghosts looked at him with silent reproach this time...

The turian sighed. The war was over. The dead rested in peace.

But he could still see his enemy's fiery red hair shine in the rays of sun. 

It just so happened that a confrontation with Rakta brought him a much-needed sense of permanence. The sniper opened his eyes, and his mandibles parted in the turian equivalent of a smile.

Even now, when the war was over, and he didn't know yet how to live further, Rakta was somewhere near.  
***  
The commando hadn't had dreams about the old man for years. But now on a deserted planet in the damaged shuttle she had a dream about the man in a cowboy hat again. He asked: "What the hell are you doing on this fucking planet?"

She woke up with a startle. After calming herself down a bit, she thought, I'd like to know that too.

And the memories engulfed her.

_She is still trembling with the cold, but her stomach is finally full. She is only fourteen, but she knows that she must pay for all the good things in life. However, she lets herself to simply enjoy a pleasant feeling of satiety for a while._

_The gray-haired man in a cowboy hat is sitting opposite her at the table. His pale eyes study her intently. She understands what the hungry look in his eyes means... Men have started noticing her since her body has become curvier, her hips have gotten wider and breasts have begun to develop._

_She does not know what is stronger: aversion, caused by his look, or curiosity._

_The man in a cowboy hat keeps staring at her, and she knows she can get up and leave. But a warm café is better than the cold metropolis streets, which have been her home as long as she can remember. They do not attract her anymore. And she can not get rid of the absurd sense of gratitude to him, just because he has pitied and fed her, and she's ready to follow him, like a homeless puppy._

_Maybe that's why the she doesn't even frown, when the man's cold fingers begin to stroke her bare knee under the table. Other cafe visitors seem not to notice this or maybe they just do not care. She looks at him, and somehow neither his pale eyes, nor his wrinkled face seem repulsive to her. Not even his silly looking long thin gray braid repulses her._

_The old man doesn't disgust her._

_Maybe it's just because he can offer her something better than earning a living from petty theft and obeying a stupid leader of a teenage street gang._

_So she smiles and frowns, as the wound on her full lower lip, she has gotten split open in the morning fight with a rival gang, hurts._

_"I've been watching you fight. You fight like a boy." the man says. "And that strange blue-white glow..."_

_She shrugs and runs her hand through her close-cropped red hair._

_"It happens, when I'm angry."_

_"So now you're not angry." His fingers continue to stroke her knee._

_She shrugs again._

_"No, I'm not."_

_A few years later after his death she'll hate and mourn him at the same time. She will despise him for what he did to her, and at the same time she'll be thankful for it._

 

"What the hell are you doing on this fucking planet?" the man in the cowboy hat asked.

The commando rubbed her eyes with her hand, being glad that it was only a dream. But she still could not stop herself from thinking about the question, a man from her past asked in her dream.

What was she doing here? Why did she come here?

Because she wanted to! She did not understand the reasons for needing to be near her sworn enemy... but she was going to indulge in such pleasure...

The woman grinned wryly and told the man from her dream: "Fuck you, you're dead, and no one else will ever tell me how to live my life!"

She sat down, stretching her stiff neck, then she stood up to gather all that she could carry.

When she stepped out of the shuttle, the heat already began to subside. The cliffs casted their black shadows across the plateau.

The commando smiled and went to the mountain path.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it goes. Another one. Need beta... badly. Sorry for mistakes and typos. You've been warned.

The Turian perched high on a ledge of cliff to wait. 

A pile of different sized boulders on the ledge made perfect cover: hiding behind it, the sniper could avoid an enemy fire, and at the same time, it was a good sniping spot, offering a good view.

The Turian lay motionless on his stomach, looking through the scope of his rifle at a narrow passage between two giant boulders about three hundred meters ahead. It was called the Gates, being the only exit from a plateau, surrounded by high cliffs.

A mountain path led from a plateau to the Gates. After passing through them newcomers found themselves in a valley between two mountain ranges and had to make their way along a valley bottom, seeing nothing but bare rocks and a narrow strip of sky overhead for a long time.

The Turian waited for Rakta.

It was dangerous to make even a slightest move, causing small rocks slide and tumble downhill, and giving his presence away ahead of time. Landslides occurred quite frequently here; slopes were completely covered with loose boulders and jagged pieces of rock, and screes collected at foots of cliffs.

The heat gradually subsided, and the Turian hoped that the woman would not waste her time. He did not want to enter a plateau, besides it would be difficult to find a better place for an ambush.

An ambush... like that time when he'd wounded his sworn enemy, leaving his first mark on her shoulder. 

His heart started beating faster when the red-haired commando went through the Gates. She stopped, casting an appraising eye over the gorge, hands on hips, indicating impatience and irritation. The sniper grinned, hoping that she won't start throwing heavy stones, using her biotics.

Rakta sighed, shook her head and moved slowly forward.

The Turian gave her time to come closer and only then did he pulled the trigger.

A single shot did not took her shields down, but the commando shouted something angrily and loudly, that the sniper's translator did not catch, and then she disappeared behind the nearest boulder, snatching her weapon from the holster on her hip.

Several minutes passed in silence, until Rakta couldn't not stand it any longer.

"We are not going to just sit in silence, are we?!" she shouted.

"What do you suggest?!" the Turian asked almost happily.

She spent some time thinking about what they should do next, and then offered: "Let's play a little guessing game!"

"To play a guessing game with you?!" the Turian asked in surprise.

"Yeah! Why not? Tell me, when a man is in a house without his head?!" the woman shouted and peeked out from behind a boulder for a moment, as if hoping to see where her enemy was.

The sniper thought deeply on her riddle.

"When he has his head cut off and thrown out of a house?!" he suggested a minute later.

"You're crazy, Turian!"

"Look who's talking! So when human men are in a house without their heads?!"

"When they are poking their heads out a vent light!"

"Out of a vent what?! What the hell is that?!" 

"Hmm... someone's definitely sick in the head... Well, when someone is poking his head out of a window!" Rakta peeked out from behind a boulder, and the Turian smiled, watching her through the scope of his rifle. 

"Oh, now it is clear! But no one has beheaded him!"

"Yes, but his head is not in a house!"

"But no one cut his head off!"

"You're sick in the head, Turian!"

"Not true…"

"Oh, there you are!" She pinpointed his position, using her omni-tool. "Okay! Now it's your turn to ask me a riddle!"

"A riddle, huh? Oh, I think I know one! Who-" the Turian suddenly trailed off as he heard a distinctive sound of a flying shuttle. "Who can it be?!" 

"How should I know?!" Her voice sounded strained. Probably deciding that it was his reinforcements, she peeked out from behind a boulder again. "Playing dirty, Turian?!"

"Quickly get up here! I have no idea who it is!" Leaving his rifle lying on the ground, he jumped to his feet and held his hands up to show her he meant no harm.

"Why should I trust you?!"

"If you want to live, you must! Hurry up!"

She rose uncertainly to her feet and left her cover, looking at the steep slope, she had to climb, and at the ledge, where her enemy stood. Perhaps the descending shuttle, flying above their heads in the direction of a plateau, forced the commando to make a decision.

It took her just a few minutes to reach a ledge. Her eyes widened in surprise when her enemy gave her his hand and helped her to overcome the last meters of a steep slope.

Standing on a ledge, the panting woman stared dumbfounded at the Turian.

"Take a comfortable shooting position and be quiet," the sniper whispered and finally let go of her hand. "Fire only on my signal."

At first, the commando looked at him with contemptuously narrowed eyes and opened her mouth to protest, but then she decided that it was not a good time to show temper.

Pulling out her rifle, she walked as far as possible from the Turian and lay down on her stomach to wait almost near the edge, where there were no boulders.

***  
Her heart was pounding. It wasn't enough that some unknown motherfuckers were arriving...

Fucking hell, some five minutes ago her archenemy had held her hand, and now was so close. Too close. It seemed to her that she could still feel the warmth of his hand, penetrating even through their gloves.

She took a few deep breaths and forced herself to focus on the passage between two huge boulders. An unknown enemy was about to arrive, and yet she could not help thinking that the place, the sniper had chosen for an ambush, was perfect and would provide them enough time to kill about a dozen intruders.

 _But, bloody hell..._ The fucking Turian again gave her an opportunity to get closer to a cover before fireing at her, like that time he'd injured her for the first time. The commando felt a phantom pain in her right shoulder and smiled, but immediately began to inwardly criticize herself for her irresponsibility: they were about to face an unknown enemy, and she was thinking about something else. **They**? It was very strange to do something together with the one she was used to fight.

The commando turned her head abruptly to look at the Turian, who lay perfectly still. And suddenly they heard a sound of the small stones falling down.

"Spirits, human, can't you lie still?" the sniper whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Sorry..." she apologized, embarrassed. No doubt she was being reckless.

_Anything to make it tougher! I even blushed, didn't I?! Fucking turian asshole!  
Fucking rocks! Fucking planet!_

"Move little farther from the edge and hide behind the boulders, or you'll give us away. Or worse, you'll fell off the ledge. Is it not bad enough, they'll see your shuttle?" the Turian said, continuing to lie perfectly still and watch the Gates through his scope.

"In case you have forgotten, it was your fault I had to fly here," she hissed resentfully.

The sniper did not respond.

 _Bastard_! He'd smoked her out, and now he claimed it was her fault that someone would notice her shuttle. The fucking Turian dared to order her around. Naturally, she positioned herself as far as possible from her enemy. And yet, he was right...

The commando let out an exasperated sigh, stood up, approached the Turian and lay down on her stomach to wait for their targets.

However, she could not deny that now she could change her body position, not making small stones fall into the valley. How could she make such a stupid mistake?

_Well, it happens to the best of us, doesn't it? But not to the smug bastard, lying just a meter away. Only because the fucking Turian knows the area well!_

A few tense minutes passed in silence, and then a batarian went through the passage... His eyes scrutinized the gorge for long, as if he knew about the ambush. Well, her shuttle'd certainly attracted his attention.

The commando held her breath, watching an intruder.

A batarian said something, inaudible to the ambushers, and the next moment... they saw a turian, who had his hands handcuffed behind his back. Someone pushed him through the passage... A second batarian followed his captive immediately, pointing a shotgun at him. Soon three more batarians and a human joined them.

"Don't shoot a Turian," the sniper whispered and raised his hand up.

The commando looked at him sideways, waiting for his signal.

He gave it when uninvited guests got closer to the boulder, behind which the commando had been hiding a little earlier.

A captive Turian disappeared behind a boulder, as first shots were fired.

Caught by surprise, the criminals started shooting back, but the battle was short-lived: soon each and every one of them lay dead on the ground. A handcuffed Turian left cover to carefully examine them, in case if someone was still alive. Once he was done, he shouted: "Not bad!"

"What did you expect?!" the sniper replied, standing up. "You didn't expect me to lose my skills, did you?!"

The commando jumped to her feet and automatically stepped to the edge, trying to put more distance between herself and the sniper, and then angrily asked: "Can somebody tell me what's going on here?!"

But the next moment the rock collapsed under her weight, and she started falling downhill.  
***  
"Be carefull, don't break your legs, Hitter! Don't worry, she's breathing!" a former captive shouted, looking steadfastly at the unconscious redhead commando. The sniper was hastily descending the steep slope, making small fragments of rock fall down.

Once he reached the bottom of the valley, he immediately turned his omnitool on and began scaning the woman to take her vitals.

A second turian stayed silent, watching him with interest for a while, and then said: "I may not be an expert on human physiology, but judging by the reading of your device there is no significant damage: no broken bones or internal bleeding... She just banged her head hard... And I would't mind some help... with handcuffs."

The sniper ignored this remark and made a few more control scans to make sure that everything was fine, and only then did he turn to the handcuffed Turian and asked irritably: "What brings you here, Nihlus, and in such a great company?"

"Poor bastards." Kryik almost sympathetically looked at the corpses of the bandits. "I try to make your life more interesting."

"Uh-huh."

"I see that the rumors are true. Looks like you two are having fun." Nihlus pointedly looked at the still unconscious woman. "When you asked me who is on the base now, it never occurred to me that you wanted to make a battlefield nearby. I thought you just wanted some silence so you could come to your senses after the war. OK... just make sure there won't be more holes as ones you left on the landing zone near the base.

"So how did you get here, Nihlus?" the sniper crossed his arms and stared at him. "And what rumors are you talking about?"

"Well... the whole Hierarchy is discussing a rumor that Rakta's gone to track you down, which is not too far from the truth. But I've been wondering... how is it that you two came together to shoot these poor idiots? WOW!" Kryik chuckled.

"What? She was hiding behind that boulder. We heard the sound of a flying shuttle. I told her that I had no idea who that was... well... it was a necessary measure which saved your life!"

"Of course it was," Nihlus said, smiling strangely, and again inspected the commando, however, this time appreciatively. "Well... they are quite similar to asari ... except... this stuff on their heads."

"Hair."

"Yes, hair... You do know what it's called then." Kryik chuckled again.

"Listen, what are you hinting at?" the sniper said irritably.

"I am not hinting at anything." 

"How did you get here?"

"Look, pal, help me with this," Nihlus said, turning and showing his hands, cuffed behind his back, "then we'll dispose of the bodies of these idiots... and after we're done I'll tell you everything."

The sniper sighed: this Spectre had always been a pain in the ass.


End file.
